


Alchmey, Impetus, and Volatile Catalysts

by palateens



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - S3E37 "Divide", Coming of Age, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Magic-User Marco Diaz, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queer Themes, Race Allegories, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23780791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palateens/pseuds/palateens
Summary: Three weeks turns into eight—the search party dwindles.Tom’s attention is split between the search and his duties as prince. Marco reluctantly splits his attention between taking care of River and advising Eclipsa. The Mewmans aren’t very happy but they listen whenever Marco’s in her court.Marco, the Savior of Mewni, Ruberiot sings. The Underestimated Queen’s faithful proxy. The keeper of magic and peace will bring us out of these dark ages and to a new glory.Grief makes people do strange things.☾✧･ﾟ: *☼✧･ﾟ:*☽A story about growing up brown and queer while trying to keep everyone's head above water.ON HIATUS BUT NOT DISCONTINUED
Relationships: Marco Diaz/Tom Lucitor, Star Butterfly/Marco Diaz/Tom Lucitor
Comments: 11
Kudos: 89





	Alchmey, Impetus, and Volatile Catalysts

**Author's Note:**

> hello! if you're one of my regular subscribers wondering "what fandom is this?" the short answer is "an ode to magical girl shows that was so painfully close to giving me a canonical trans Chican@ character featuring I can only describe as 'Kent Parson if Kent Parson had been given a kinder character arc.'" See what I'm dealing with here? Consider watching it. 
> 
> if you're an SVTFOE fan wondering "okay, what the deal with this story/author" hello! I'm notorious for slow burn, not-actually unrequited love, rare-polyships, and brown trans mentally ill characters just trying to live their lives. If any of these things appeal to you then stick around! If they don't--maybe give it a shot! idk, I don't run your life

Star leaves to find her mom. She hugs Marco tightly, telling him to hold the fort down while she’s gone.  
  
“You might need this,” Star says quietly as she hands Marco her wand.  
  
He blinks, once, twice. A knot twists in the pit of his stomach.  
  
“Uh, Star, that’s your wand,” he says.  
  
“Oh I know,” she says with a tight smile. “But I don’t really need it. And you might.”  
  
“I’m not sure…”  
  
“Just...in case there’s an emergency. It would make me feel better if you had this,” Star says.  
  
He stares at the wand, cradled in her outstretched hands. His eyes trace every curve of its wings. He looks at the tiny replicas of her fake demon horns and thinks with a shudder that this wand is one of the most important items in the universe. 

  
“I trust you, Marco,” she says. “I know you’ll take care of this place while I’m gone.” 

It encompasses everything Star’s worked for on Mewni. She’s not just entrusting him with a simple trinket—she’s trusting him with the power of the kingdom. He takes the wand slowly, breath shallow as he does.   
  
“You can count on me, Star,” he says, putting a brave smile on for her.  
  
Marco goes into the battle against Meteora with some semblance of courage. Even when every step he takes has the tiniest echoes of trepidation in them. Marco can’t feel much over the beating inside his eardrums, telling him it’s not too late to run as far away from Mewni as possible. The darkest crevice of his heart whispers that this isn’t his fight. He can leave whenever he wants. 

_I trust you,_ the memory of Star’s voice repeats in his head. 

It reminds him of the reality he’s settled into over the last few years. This kingdom, this dimension, belongs to people he loves. He’s worked and clawed his way to being respected among Mewni’s royal court. He’s fought, cried, and _loved_ every crevice of magic and chaos Star and Tom have shown him of the multiverse. 

Tom smiles softly as he steadfastly supports Marco’s leadership. Marco’s heart skips a beat, reminding him that with friends like Tom, he has an eternity to disappoint—to be less than good enough. Today can’t be the start of that.   
  
The first plan starts out perfectly. The backup plan falls together. He isn’t prepared for Tom to bring his A-game, but he’s relieved. **  
**  
Tom throws Meteora into the Underworld and Marco takes a deep breath. Maybe this is it. Maybe they’re done. 

Star’s wand rests in a holster underneath his dress. But it feels like it’s burning a hole into his skin, whispering that none of this will end until Meteora is stopped and Star is home safe.  
  
He isn’t supposed to use the wand. It’s just a precaution after all. A last-ditch effort when all else seems hopeless.  
  
He never expects to use the wand. Meteora is supposed to take the hint and stay down. Star’s supposed to be back soon. Moon could save them. Maybe if they can make it to the— 

“Marco, we have to go,” Tom says as they cower with Heckapoo behind a rock.  
  
It isn’t supposed to end like this. He promised Star to hold Meteora off.  
  
Heckapoo gets zapped while pushing him and Tom into a portal. He watches her soul float out of her body as they crash onto Star’s bed.   
  
They have a moment to rest, but not for long. Meteora’s already charging toward the palace. Tom rips a hole into the Underworld.  
  
“That’s not going to work twice,” Marco says  
  
“No, Marco. It’s for us,” Tom says.  
  
He doesn’t say anything as Tom tries to usher him to safety. Meteora’s thunderous steps rumble louder as she approaches. The air’s too thin, Marco’s dress is suddenly too tight, and Tom’s hand is scalding as he starts to cross the portal’s threshold.  
  
_I know you’ll take care of this place while I’m gone_ , rings in his head.  
  
Marco rips his hand away from Tom. They blink at each other for a heartbeat, and then two.  
  
“T-Tom, I…” he doesn’t know how to articulate himself beyond, “I promised Star.”  
  
It feels cruel and underhanded to bring her up when he’d confessed to kissing her not more than a few hours ago. She matters so much more than they can put into words, though. They both understand that much.  
  
Tom sighs, nodding slowly. 

Some, desperately naive, part of Marco thinks it won’t come down to using the wand. They’ll rally back some strength or someone will come to save them at the last second. He’s not supposed to win. He just has to stall for Star.  
  
He almost loses his life being too slow to grab the wand. Tom pushes him out of the way, losing a few dozen lives in the process. Watching Tom, one of his best friends probably ever, lose consciousness makes something snap in Marco.  
  
Using the wand doesn’t feel as terrifying as the first time he used it. If anything, it’s exhilarating. Marco’s inhibitions are drowned out by a tidal wave of overwhelming power.  
  
Something deep inside of him falls away. His vision blurs for a moment. His pulse is so loud it plays tricks on him. He hears Tom crying. He hears Star shout his name.  
  
He hears some part of his soul whisper, _wow, it’s really you_.

  
In one moment, he is Marco Ubaldo Diaz: squire, interdimensional traveler, but overall a normal dude. In the next, he feels his soul clench and twist and writhe. He feels a part of himself being ripped from his body in the same breath that a wound is cauterized.  
  
He feels every cell in his body collapses in on itself.  
  
He hears someone screaming as a burst of light knocks Meteora off her feet. He feels his heart pounding harder as his feet get lighter. Something behind him lifts him up as he rushes to attack her. For a moment, he’s beating her off with punches and blasts he didn’t know he had in him. They’re quick and merciless. She’s getting attacked from every angle.  
  
_Star must be back_ , he thinks in the back of his head. _We’re saved_ .  
  
Adrenaline and magic are coursing through his veins at the speed of sound, willing him to not give up.  
  
It’s only after Meteora gets over her initial shock—punching him so hard that it sends him flying across the throne room—that he realizes there’s no one else here. His lilac wings throb in pain as his six arms shake in fear.  
  
Star will never make it in time to save him, he realizes. It’s just him and the wand standing between Meteora and total destruction. If there’s anyone left on Mewni to save...he has to try.  
  
The spells don’t come as naturally this time. They’re fumbled and disjointed. Somehow, new spells spill from his lips—kitten bombs and sludge beasts and a queen bat with a pickaxe.  
  
He has nothing left to lose as Meteora slams him into a wall. His grip is still tight on the wand.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I...you were an asshole okay? But you’re not irredeemable. Maybe we could just...start over. Fix Mewni together with your mom and Star.”  
  
She doesn’t listen to him. It’s alright, he thinks. He tried his best. 

  
Marco hears screaming again as Meteora charges at him, realizing belatedly that it’s coming from him. It takes everything in him to blast Meteora one last time.  
  
It almost works; until it doesn’t. When Meteora sends him airborne this time, his butterfly form craps out mid-flight. His right leg breaks on impact, along with at least three ribs.  
  
Meteora is unstoppable, taunting his fragile human body as he labors to breathe.  
  
He tries to crawl towards Tom, trying to make his last seconds count. If he’s going to die, it might as well be next to someone he loves.  
  
Eclipsa emerges from the shadows, asking for the wand. He doesn’t hesitate to throw it toward her.  
  
Meteora is all-powerful until her mother destroys her.  
  


He sighs in relief as he hobbles to Eclipsa's side. Marco hugs her tightly.  
  
_Thank you_ , he says through trembling lips. _I’m sorry_ , he wheezes over bloody coughs.  
  
A baby’s cries fill the room as people’s souls return to their bodies. No apology needed, Eclipsa insists as she clutches her, now newborn, daughter tightly. She fixes Marco’s broken bones just in time for Tom to slam into him.  
  
Marco clutches him tightly, inhaling the scent of blood, old incense, and that shitty spice cologne Marco bought him last Christmas.  
  
“Don’t scare me like that,” Tom says  
  
Marco hugs him tighter. “Right back at ‘cha.”  
  
☾✧･ﾟ: *☼✧･ﾟ:*☽

Mewni is safe. Marco kept his word. Now all he has to do is wait for Star to return. She should be back any minute now. River says as much when he finally returns to the castle.  
  
_One minute turns to twenty—an afternoon turns into five._  
  
The rescue mission is just harder than they initially thought, River argues. They give her more time.  
  
Reconstruction of the kingdom has to start, they all reason. Might as well get that underway while they wait for the return of their queens.  
  
_Five days turns into three weeks—a search party is sent for them._  
  
River spends a month with the search party before falling ill—too weak to take care of himself and too bad at taking care of himself to regain his strength.  
  
People are starting to ask questions that don’t have answers. Eclipsa is the only surviving queen of Mewni. Marco makes her acting queen. The Mewmans take it begrudgingly as the Monsters rejoice.  
  
_Three weeks turns into eight—the search party dwindles._  
  
Tom’s attention is split between the search and his duties as prince. Marco reluctantly splits his attention between taking care of River and advising Eclipsa. The Mewmans aren’t very happy but they listen whenever Marco’s in her court.  
  
_Marco, the Savior of Mewni_ , Ruberiot sings. The Underestimated Queen’s faithful proxy. The keeper of magic and peace will bring us out of these dark ages and to a new glory. 

  
It’s not him they want, a voice in the back of his mind tells him. They’re just waiting for their queens to return.   
  
Marco scours every corner of the universe with Tom in his free time. He tries to keep everyone in the kingdom together. Marco counts down the minutes until Star returns, triumphant, with Moon in tow.  
  
No one can find them anywhere. Not by air, not through word of mouth or mirror. Not with the all-seeing eye.  
  
Tom mourns.  
  
Marco waits.   
  
Star doesn’t come back.

☾✧･ﾟ: *☼✧･ﾟ:*☽

Moving the official capital to the Monster Temple is a fresh start, Eclipsa assures Marco.  
  
It’s more like a crypt than a castle at times, and definitely needs more light sources. But overall, opening up the rest of the castle was about as normal as could be expected. The walls are decorated with intricate art that’s more preserved than most of the outdated stone furniture. It’s a fixer-upper to be sure but when they start to clear away the mold and debris—Marco can start to see the potential.   
  
“Nothing says ‘new beginnings’ quite like a new home,” she says cheerfully.  
  
“Yes, and nothing says ‘fresh’ like a good mutiny,” River says sourly as he helps with some dusting around the artwork of the entrance hall.  
  
It’s a good day for River when he can gather the strength to find disdain about everything. It’s a neutral day when Marco has to force him to eat and shower.  
  
They don’t talk about River’s bad days. More specifically, Marco’s given up on trying to broach the subject of how hard it is to muddle through River’s bad days.  
  
It’s a process, all of it. They’re all just...processing these uncertain times.  
  
And if there’s anything Marco knows about processing, it’s that everyone’s going to cope differently. It’s easier for Eclipsa to cry in front of Globgor’s crystallized self than it is to wade through her grief around Meteora. Just like it’s easier for River to stop talking, shut out the world, after a flashback from Meteora’s attack...or Toffee’s...or any battle from the last fifteen years for that matter.  
  


Grief makes people do strange things. 

All he can do is be there for people. He can take baby Meteora from Eclipsa’s arms when she needs a minute. He can make sure River showers after a hard day. He can even hold Tom close and tell him it’s going to be okay.  
  
And it _will_ be okay, he thinks. It has to be.  
  
How else will they survive?  
  
Eclipsa squeezes Marco’s arm. She gives him a small smile as her eyes gleam with something Marco’s learning is akin to pride or concern or probably...both.  
  
“Why don’t you take a break?” Eclipsa says quietly. 

  
Marco laughs awkwardly. “A break to do what?”  
  
Sometimes he sees his family. Sometimes, on days where they’ve already had a public appearance, he eats his meals alone in his room. Sometimes, in the dead of night, he’ll sneak away to Heckapoo’s dimension for a bit or to Tom’s room for a night.  
  
Sometimes Kelly tries to tell him to take a break. Sometimes Jana snaps her finger and he wakes up twelve hours later, a bit worse for wear but more rested.  
  
Most of the time, however, he lives for his post.  
  
Eclipsa hugs him. Her affection reminds him of his mother until he starts to feel her aura tugging at his magic, pulling some of the excess energy away from him.  
  
Marco sighs as he pulls away from her embrace. He knows it’s exhausting. He knows his magic is too much. He doesn’t know how to turn down the metaphorical volume of it. He hasn’t been able to go full butterfly since they defeated Meteora but that doesn’t stop his magic from buzzing restlessly.  
  
“You don’t have to push yourself,” he says with a half-hearted smile.  
  
“I could say the same for you, my dear,” Eclipsa says.  
  
Marco shrugs. “Eclipsa you’re the Queen of Mewni. That’s kinda a huge deal. I’m just—”  
  
“My most trusted advisor?” she says, smirking playfully.  
  
“...Yeah, okay point taken.”  
  
He takes her request lightly, wandering off to inspect the kitchen long enough to appease her wishes. The truth is, he doesn’t mind being busy. He needs it. It makes him feel useful and in control in a time where there’s nothing but chaos and uncertainty. He can’t find Star, but he can keep the kingdom together long enough for her to return. Deep down, he knows he’d go crazy without something to keep his mind distracted.  
  
After all, grief makes people do strange things.

☾✧･ﾟ: *☼✧･ﾟ:*☽  
  
Tom keeps the search parties going for several months. He organizes parties of volunteers to scour the dimensions. He sends statements to royals and villages, asking them to look out for Mewni’s lost monarchs. 

Tom offers monetary rewards for tips that lead somewhere. He sits with old ladies in their homes as they tell him of a person who reminds them of Star. The tips flood his mirror at first, but never bear promising results. The old ladies and well-meaning villagers don’t offer their search any concrete evidence of Star’s location...or existence for that matter.  
  
He borrows Marco’s scissors more often than not. It makes travel between dimensions faster. He searches everywhere for Star. Sometimes Marco joins him. They’ll spend a day or two or ten camping on some unknown moon or seedy hostile near an asteroid belt.  
  
Sometimes it’s too much for Marco. He’ll send Tom off with his scissors but spend the day alone in Tom’s room. Marco will wait up until the late hours of the morning when Tom crawls into bed, tired and defeated, asking Marco to hold him.  
  
Six months into Star’s disappearance, Tom wakes Marco up one morning after another failed search.  
  
“Let’s get out of here,” Tom says.  
  
“And go where?” Marco says, bleary-eyed.  
  
“Away,” he says.  
  
In hindsight, Marco thinks it’s impulsive and reckless to let an immortal demon pick the destination. Tom cuts a hole into Heckapoo’s dimension. Marco gives him a two second head start. He finds Tom, a few years older, waiting for him.  
  
His face is longer and he’s more haggard than Marco expected him to be.  
  
“Took you long enough,” Tom says.  
  
“You needed to clear your head,” he says as he hugs Tom. 

Tom smiles sadly. “I hate when you’re right.” 

Marco laughs, offering Tom a hand as he whistles for Nachos. 

  
The Neverzone is about as beautiful as it is terrifying. There are miles of forest as far as the eye can see. The tree branches weave and curve at every turn. Jagged mountain tops cut through the horizon. Marco breathes easy here. This dimension might be perilous but surviving here is straightforward, almost predictable. 

They ride until the sun gets low in the sky. Tom directs them to the cave he’s made his home.   
  
“So,” Tom says eventually as they warm up next to a campfire. “How long are we staying here?”  
  
“As long as you want,” Marco says.  
  
Because he’s tired of fleeing to this dimension alone when he can’t handle his life anymore. He’s sick of having responsibilities that aren’t his own. He’s sick of biding his time until they go back to normal. Marco huffs quietly to himself. His idea of normal is being Star’s loyal squire.  
  
Earth is mostly a dream at this point. He doesn’t care to think about it too hard.  
  
“Well then,” Tom says, pulling Marco out of his thoughts. “Guess we’re staying here until I get bored.”  
  
They spend a decade traversing the Neverzone. Tom learns to battle with the kind of ferocity befitting a future King of Hell. Maybe he gains an inch or two in height, but he assures Marco that demons just age differently than humans.  
  
Marco shows him everything he knows. Tom, for his part, teaches Marco pyromancy. It helps quell some of the magic vibrating in every cell of Marco’s body.  
  
They go home beaten up after a tussle with some rogue wizards. Marco teaches Tom how to reset in a younger body, albeit a transition that’s not as drastic as Marco’s. An entire decade was wrapped into five minutes or so. It’s the kind of transition that could be life-shattering for anyone.   
  
No one missed them because no one knew to miss them, Marco explains wryly. Tom nods slowly, fist clenched tightly. The irony of disappearing to escape Star’s disappearance isn’t lost on either of them.  
  
Tom says they should eat breakfast in bed, maybe watch some Mackie Hand movies. During _Hand to Hand to Hand_ , Tom clears his throat.  
  


“Marco I...I’m not judging you or anything,” he says with a trembling voice. “I just don’t know how you can spend so much time there.” 

Marco’s breath catches. The air between them is electric with emotions and things they haven’t said. He’s spent enough time with Tom that he doesn’t have to look up to see the cautious expression in his eyes as he scoots closer to Marco. He does, however, chance a look when Tom takes his hand. It kills him a little how worried Tom looks.  
  
Worrying is supposed to be Marco’s job. 

  
“Don’t get me wrong,” Tom says. “The Neverzone is cool. But spending years away from everything I know and love? I don’t know how you do it, dude.” 

Marco hums in agreement. It’s something to tuck away in the back of his mind for another day.  
  
The same way he tucks away his magic, Star, or the way he looks in the mirror.  
  
It’s future-Marco’s problem, after all. 

☾✧･ﾟ: *☼✧･ﾟ:*☽ 

Eventually, after much debate and denial, Marco picks up the wand again.  
  
Eclipsa uses it for ceremonies and diplomatic events as a symbol of continuity in the Butterfly lineage. Marco’s swayed her into demonstrating helpful and harmless spells in front of people. Just between the two of them, it feels like empty pageant tricks meant to distract and appease the Mewmans. It’s a symbol of something ‘simpler’ that doesn’t exist anymore—like Moon’s rule.   
  
Glossaryck, however, taught her weeks ago how to tap into the magic around her. He didn’t offer any help to Marco. Typical.  
  
Meaning that Eclipsa doesn’t really need the wand and Marco could use all the help he can get.   
  
As much as he’s come to resent magic—for being too loud, for never leaving him alone, and for ripping his best friend away from him—he’s at his wits end. Magic clings to his body like a swarm of mosquitos on a hot summer day. It’s as oppressive and overbearing as the nagging of the Magic High Commission, constantly telling him to assume the throne.  
  
Yesterday’s conversation with Heckapoo is still ringing in his head.  
  
_“Look, dude, Eclipsa is on thin ice with everyone. One false move and she’s back in a crystal.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Is that a threat?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Just warning you that—whether you like it or not—someday that throne’s going to be yours.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Says who?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Says everyone.”_  
  
Magic, like most things these days, is another obstacle he has to learn to control. Even if every fiber of his being is screaming that it’s wrong. This is all wrong.  
  
This isn’t his wand to use. He’s just holding it for someone who’s holding it for someone they both love.  
  
Marco takes a deep breath, letting the fresh air of Eclipsa’s new garden wash away his nerves. There’s rubble all over the grounds that still needs to be cleared out or else destroyed. Perfect for target practice. He feels his cheeks tingle as he grips the wand, magic coursing every which way through him.  
  
The narwhal blasts and warnicorn stampedes come out weak and mangled. He sighs, wracking his brain for the spells he used long against Meteora. A shiver runs down his spine as he realizes that it wasn’t lifetimes ago, it was a few months at best.  
  
Kitten bombs are easier than last time. He tries lions, tigers, and leopard seals. Surprisingly, he gets a hang of Star’s rainbow punches. He plays with different attacks, throwing as much of his combat training into annihilating the shit out of the boulders obstructing Eclipsa’s master plan for the Monster Castle.  
  
He tries mixing rainbow punches with the pyromancy. It’s surprisingly effective. He works until the day is old and his muscles are aching. But that isn’t good enough. He wants to work until he can’t anymore until the magic in his body shuts up. Until his mind is so exhausted it comes up with new solutions...better solutions. 

Maybe if he keeps pushing himself until his body breaks, he’ll go butterfly again. Then he’ll be able to control his magic even better. Then he can be better at helping Tom search for Star. Then maybe he can rip a hole big enough in the multiverse to get Star back from the magical dimension...or worse.

☾✧･ﾟ: *☼✧･ﾟ:*☽  
  
River wakes up most days at the crack of dawn. That doesn’t mean, however, that River will get out of bed by noon that day—if at all.  
  


He’s a walking bundle of nerves and trauma, in Marco’s opinion. He will act tough and fearless on a good enough day. As if that absolves him from broken sobs and every PTSD attack.  
  
Being King of Mewni was harder than River let on. It was years of watching his wife wither away while he was forced to remain quiet. It was keeping vigil as she laid injured, wondering if this would be the time she didn’t pull through.  
  
Being king meant political mind games Moon would never acknowledge or dignify with a conversation. Of course River, a Johansen by birth, was no stranger to royal duties or etiquette. But, as River would explain once, there are royal expectations and then there are the duties of being a Butterfly.  
  
“The life of a Butterfly is...demoralizing,” he tells Marco quietly one rainy night. “All of Mewni depends on your every movement and yet, those who would have you fall on your sword outnumber those who would defend you.”  
  
The night in question is as dreary as River’s disposition. The winds rage outside, beating against the window shutters of the castle. River, for his part, cowers next to the fire like a scared rodent. River shivers as he dries from getting caught in the downpour earlier. He’d been too distracted fixing a storm shutter to notice he was getting rained out. 

Watching him take occasional bites of food, Marco’s just relieved River is willing to eat today. It’s not much, a bone broth and a few pieces of meat he’s nibbling. It’s alright, though, River will barely touch meat these days. 

Overall, it’s been a good day. River made a public appearance. He assured Mewmans that the search is still afoot but Eclipsa has their best interest in mind...as do River and Marco. It’s painful sometimes, seeing the desperate hope in Mewmans’ eyes. They want everything to go back to _normal_. 

Marco’s still grappling with the idea that their normal will never return. Maybe that’s for the best.   
  
“Maybe they’re tired of having a monarchy,” Marco says.  
  
River shakes his head. “They want a freedom they can’t have. They want freedom _from_ choice as much as freedom _of_ choice.”  
  
“What does that even mean?”  
  
“They want to believe someone will have all the answers...do what it takes to protect them. They don’t want a revolution—they want a status quo they can live with.”

Marco huffs. Of course they do. It’s easy for Mewmans to think about that when they’ve never lived like a Monster. They don’t know what it’s like to be targeted for how they look or speak. Mewmans don’t understand what it means to live in fear of being punished for existing or even thriving against all odds. They don’t understand what it’s like to have everything they know and love taken from them and then be blamed for it.  
  
“Yeah, well, maybe the Mewmans want simplicity because they can already afford the status quo,” Marco says. “The Monsters are too scared to walk outside without Mewmans attacking them.”  
  
River takes a long sip of his broth.  
  
Marco pushes forward with something that’s been bothering him for weeks. “What’s the point of integrating the people and making reparations if the Mewmans hold it all against the Monsters? Like...how can we say we’ve freed them when they’re still oppressed?”  
  
“Spoken like a true monarch, my boy,” River says.  
  
He sighs. “River, I’m not—”  
  
“Ready? I know,” River says. “Unfortunately, the crown waits for no man. Your people can’t accept a leader who doesn’t accept himself.”  
  
An unkind part of his mind wants to ask if River’s ever considered taking his own advice.  
  


It’s confusing and infuriating how River keeps giving him sage wisdom about running a kingdom. Mewni isn’t his to rule. He doesn’t want to be given a vanity title for doing his squire duties. The monarchy, the racism, and even the agriculture of Mewni...it’s all broken. It’s not something he can fix as some outsider from Earth. He’s not going to become River and he’s sure as fuck not going to become Star. 

He’s not a hero. He’s not a monarch in the making. He’s just a teenager who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

This world isn’t something he can heal. Its wounds are so deep and infected that they can only be cared for by someone who understands the kingdom’s needs inside and out. He’s just there to clean the cuts as best he can while Star finds her way back home.   
  


☾✧･ﾟ: *☼✧･ﾟ:*☽  
  


“Marco, dear, what do you think?” Eclipsa asks in the middle of a strenuous meeting with the Magic High Commission.  
  
Eclipsa has tentatively agreed to work with them (and even more begrudgingly agreed to work under their supervision) with a few stipulations. One being they stay as far away from her daughter as possible. Another is that Eclipsa gets to retain her own advisors in addition to the commission—namely River and Marco.  
  
River’s scribbling away notes on a piece of parchment next to Eclipsa. He’s biting his lip as he does on more energetic days. It’s still too early to tell if he’ll whisper brilliant insights into Eclipsa’s ear or wait for the commission to leave before he starts ranting about his latest passion project—finding fifty more uses for corn.  
  


It beats fighting off River’s inner demons. Leave it to magic to find new and exciting ways to manifest untreated psychological trauma.  
  
“Marco—” Eclipsa says again, clearing her throat in the process.  
  
He perks up from his musings. Right, integration of Monsters and Mewmans. And they were specifically talking about— 

Shit. What was it? He’s been listening this entire time. He knows he heard—   
  
He sighs, rubbing his temple. His memory’s been shit lately.  
  
“Sorry, can you repeat the question?”  
  
Heckapoo’s tsk grates on his brain. Of course, Marco’s competence directly reflects Eclipsa’s ability to rule. Heckapoo’s threats encompass more than just Eclipsa fucking up. One wrong move too many from Marco or River or anyone in Eclipsa’s good graces could damn them all.  
  
The Magic High Commission’s game has been “guilty until proven innocent” since Day 1 of Eclipsa’s reign.  
  
“Eclipsa wants to give all the Monster’s their ancestral homes back,” Heckapoo says tiredly. “But we can’t kick Mewmans out of their homes.”  
  
Eclipsa clears her throat. “Those aren’t—”  
  
“We heard you the first time, _monster lover_ ,” Rhombulus says indignantly.  
  
Marco holds back an eye roll. Being disrespectful to a member of the commission could be a bad move. 

  
“You’re both right,” Marco says neutrally. “Monsters deserve to reclaim the homes that were stolen from them...But we can’t just make hundreds of Mewmans homeless when their families have been there for generations.”  
  
“Yeah, so, what do we do?” Heckapoo says impatiently.  
  
“Build new homes, probably,” Marco says. “Monsters should get to pick first if they get new homes or reclaim their old ones. Then Mewmans get to feel special because either they kept the home they wanted or they have a new property.”  
  
He looks over at River, who’s scribbling something like a hut design. It gives him an idea.  
  
“And we can foster Monster-Mewman relations by organizing house builds so everyone pitches in and learns about each other while fixing our housing problem,” Marco adds.  
  
“There’s no way it’ll be that easy,” Heckapoo says. Her arms are crossed as she smirks, daring him to fuck up. 

The problem with this whole fucked up system is that there’s no telling who, when, or what will cause the commission to imprison Eclipsa again.  
  
They’re all just running on borrowed time in a game with constantly changing rules. Marco clenches his fists, thinking about the first time he and Tom really hung out.  
  
_“Star doesn’t really cheat, she just makes up her own rules.”_ _  
  
_

_“And then she changes the rules again halfway through the game...She just does whatever she wants.”_  
  
Marco takes a deep breath, wiping something from the corner of his eye. He so doesn’t have time for stupid feelings.  
  
“You’re probably right and some people will probably be pissed no matter what we do,” Marco says. “But that’s the thing. Some people do whatever they want. There’s nothing to do about it except be ready for the worst-case scenario. We owe it to Monsters everywhere to make this right.”  
  
Eclipsa gives him a small smile and two thumbs up as the commission reluctantly nods in agreement. Marco pointedly ignores Omnitraxus Prime’s contemptuous sneer. He sighs. The commission's opinions don’t matter as long as they don’t get in the way of running the kingdom. 

Still, it’s hard feeling so impotent whenever they’re involved. They’re just a reminder of all the failures looming over his head. A reminder that there’s only so much he can do for Monsters, for Mewni, and for a missing Star. 

☾✧･ﾟ: *☼✧･ﾟ:*☽  
  
Marco takes to training more often. His logic and resolve never waver. He keeps fighting his way through sleepless nights. When he runs out of debris to remove in the Monster Castle, he starts renovating the old castle. A small part of his heart thinks it should be restored to its former glory before Star gets back. A smaller part of his mind thinks it’ll make a good venue for a funeral or two.  
  
Clearing the rubble away from the throne room takes a few weeks. There’s too much structural damage to a few towers. Marco briefly considers hiring some construction crews to figure this out instead.  
  
He starts working on cleaning Star’s room—sorting through piles of clothing and things creeping out from her secret closet. He works into the early hours of the morning, humming Love Sentence songs to himself as the moon keeps him company. He uses magic sparingly, not wanting his crescent cheek marks to stick any more prominent than necessary.  
  
The last time he used magic for more than an hour, it took two weeks of not using the wand to get rid of them. He can’t look in the mirror when his own face is a memento of how long the last year or so has been. 

Fortunately for his efforts, his muscles are a lot stronger than they used to be. They’re not to the glory of his Neverzone body, but they can lift most boulders and push the rest. It keeps his mind busy, so, that’s all that really matters.  
  
Being alone has become a rarer commodity over the last several weeks. The more he does for the kingdom, the more people look at him to keep doing it—or to slip and mess up. River’s right, the pressure of being watched all the time is so much. 

Marco can’t breathe around anyone because that could show weakness. Because every time he lets himself think he feels like he’s going to break. Because everywhere he turns, there’s something to remind him of the gaping Star-shaped hole in his heart. 

He’s so lost in the rhythm of things that he doesn’t notice someone watching him from the doorway.  
  
“What are you doing?” Tom’s voice startles Marco into a scream. 

“Fuck, Tom,” he groans. “What are you doing here?” 

Tom smiles softly. “Could ask you the same thing, dude.” 

Marco frowns, shrugging as casually as possible. “I’m just...cleaning up.” 

“Cleaning Star’s destroyed bedroom...in an abandoned castle in the middle of the night?”  
  
The way Tom looks at Marco as he crosses the room bores a hole into Marco’s heart. It’s so empathetic but sad. For all the years they spent together, Marco still isn’t used to younger Tom’s eyes being so tender and thoughtful. Especially not when it’s directed at Marco instead of Star.  
  
Tom squeezes Marco’s shoulder before pulling him into a hug.  
  
“What are you doing, Marco?” he asks.  
  
“I just...someone has to do it,” Marco says quietly.  
  
Tom hugs him tighter as a tear slips down Marco’s cheek. Wasn’t that the point of everything in his life the last six months or so? Doing shit he hates because someone has to. Because the weight of Mewni had to fall on someone else’s shoulders and Marco was... _is_ ...the only person stupid enough to catch it.  
  
“You don’t have to do everything,” Tom says. 

  
Marco huffs. “I guess.” 

He doesn’t know if he believes that. 

  
“Come on, I know a hundred better things we could be doing right now,” Tom says as he ushers Marco toward the door.  
  
For Tom, though...he’ll just have to try and believe him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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